


30 Days of Smut - Day 9: Food

by casey270



Series: 30 Days of Smut [9]
Category: Isaac Carpenter (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Food Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 14:25:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casey270/pseuds/casey270
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're not really what anyone could call kinky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	30 Days of Smut - Day 9: Food

They’ve been talking about trying new things and finding ways to add spice. Nothing too serious, though. They’re not really what anyone could call kinky. They just want a little something different to play with. And giving in to his literal nature, Tommy heads to the grocery store, because there’s no better place to find spice, right?

He wanders the aisles, looking for food that’s suitable for playtime. He picks up a can of whipped cream - the aerosol kind, so he can spray dirty words on Isaac’s skin before he licks them off. He grins at that thought, because maybe he is a little kinky.

He picks up some chocolate and caramel sauce, too. They seem like they belong with the whipped cream, and he’s totally gonna talk Isaac into being desert tonight. 

On his way to the checkout, he passes the produce section, and he can’t resist the quart of strawberries he throws into the basket. All the romantic shit he’s ever read had couples feeding each other strawberries. He’s not sure why they’re supposed to be romantic, but he thinks he might as well get some.

Before he leaves, he picks up a cucumber. He can’t help making visual associations. It’s that literal nature thing again. Same with the bananas, except they tie in with the strawberries and whipped cream and stuff. Whatever. He wants to make sure everything’s covered.

He even stops on the way home to pick up a bottle of Petron. He might need a little liquid courage, and getting Isaac liquored up might help get him to say yes to the cucumber.

When he gets home, Isaac’s sitting on the couch, watching TV, but he gets up to help Tommy with the bags.

“You got food?” Isaac asks, holding up the cucumber. “Planning on making something special?”

“More like someone, not something,” he answers, waggling his eyebrows in what he think is a sexy move. 

Apparently, it’s not working the way he wants, because Isaac’s _EWWW!!_ is accompanied by the sound of the cucumber being dropped to the floor. He thinks this might be a good time to break out the tequila, before the whole night goes to shit.

But before he can get the bottle opened, Isaac’s picking item after item out of the bags, studying each one like he’s never seen them before. He knows that Isaac knows why he bought what he bought. Looking back on it, he thinks it might have been a good idea to talk it over first. He knows for damn sure the poor cucumber isn’t gonna be used. It split when it hit the floor, and even he thinks it would be a little too messy now.

“There’s no ice cream in here.” At first he’s not sure what Isaac means, but Isaac clears it up. “If you’d bought ice cream, I’d think you wanted to turn me into a banana split.” 

Then Isaac looks from the bananas he’s holding to the ruined cucumber, and he can see the connection being made.

“Oh, hell no, Tommy.”

“I thought you wanted to spice things up?” Because this wasn’t just his idea, after all.

“Playing’s all fun and good, baby,” Isaac tells him, sweeping a hand towards the counter where Tommy’s purchases are lined up, “but this isn’t us. I don’t do dairy - don’t eat it _or_ wear it. And you don’t like sweets. I’m pretty sure the last time you had strawberries, you broke out in hives. I’m sorry, but benadryl and calamine don’t seem like a sexy time, beb.”

Tommy feels like the biggest fucking failure ever as he hangs his head and toes the tiles of the kitchen floor. He does peek through the hair that’s fallen across his face when he hears Isaac saying, “Well hello there,” while picking up the bottle of tequila. “I think I might just have an idea.”

And that’s how Tommy ends up on the kitchen table, his belly button still damp from the body shots, and his dick wrapped in a tortilla as Isaac carefully eats away the covering, saving the juicy filling for last.


End file.
